A Tattoo That Can't Be Removed - Chapter 9

I hadn’t been back to my hometown for a while.

The old bricks and tiles, the misty rain, the suitcase dragging over the cobblestones still made an annoying noise.

“Hey, you’re back.”

The TV at home was blaring, narrating increasingly absurd family dramas from a skewed angle.

Dad sat in front of the TV, clearly not expecting me to return at this time.

I ignored him, headed straight to my room, and flopped onto the bed.

The blanket seemed freshly washed. He still loved cleanliness, even though I didn’t come home often. He would still air out my blanket every now and then.

These past few days, I couldn’t quite describe how I felt.

Barely managed to crash at a friend’s place. By the time I returned from my hometown, I should be able to move into the new rental. A large sum of money mysteriously appeared in my bank account, and I didn’t need to guess who sent it.

I returned it all, couldn’t owe him anything.

These nights, I still dreamt of him. Sometimes waking up in the middle of the night, the absence beside me left me dazed. People don’t change so easily. I liked him so much it became a habit.

But liking is one thing, not looking back is another.

I couldn’t think clearly, wasn’t that sensible.

We had planned to get married, yet we still broke up.

I knew he still had Qin Chuchu in his heart. Every time I thought of it, it made me grind my teeth in anger.

The sunset in the town seemed to spread more vividly than in the city. When I woke up, the golden light scattered in the slanting sun, the autumn wind rustled, and the smell of cooking from each household wafted into my nose.

“Dinner?” Dad knocked on the door.

I opened the door and walked out, greeted by a table full of dishes, all my favorites.

“I just went out to buy some fish. You wouldn’t believe it, but I got the last one, and the vendor sold it to me cheap.”

Dad sat at the table with his legs crossed, poured himself a glass of Baijiu¹, and took a sip.

I shoveled some rice into my mouth and spoke to him with a mouthful.

“Drink less, the doctor said you have cirrhosis.”

“I know my limits. So… why are you back, daughter?”

“Can’t I just come to see you?”

“Come on, you wouldn’t fly back just to see me unless something’s up. Did you get fired?”

“No.”

“Had a falling out with friends?”

“No.”

“Broke up?”

“…”

I paused, picked up a piece of fish, and continued eating.

Wei Yan had visited my hometown before, but Dad never met him.

I could still picture that clear-eyed boy smiling at me under the gray walls, saying he’d marry me and we’d have a feast here.

Dad probably guessed most of it, but he could talk about anything except emotions, so he changed the subject.

“My eyes have been blurry lately, hard to grade students’ homework.”

He gestured to his eyes with his chopsticks.

“And I keep dreaming of your mom, all dusty, saying she wants to take me away.”

“…”

Mom passed away when I was in high school, and Dad always remembered her in these odd ways.

Later, we agreed that during the holidays, he wouldn’t bike to school alone; I’d take him.

With nothing to do during the day, I’d wander around town and head to Dad’s elementary school to join the gym class in the afternoon. I got to know some of the kids there, who loved to tell wild stories.

The Dragon Warrior saved the world today, and through their tales, I caught up on the cartoon they watched. The kids bragged about how cool their Dragon Warrior was, and suddenly one of them raised his voice.

“Sis, that big brother is watching you!”

I instinctively followed his finger, and there, under the swaying camphor trees, was Wei Yan, hands in his pockets, quietly watching me.

Footnote:

1. 1. Baijiu(白酒):Baijiu is a traditional Chinese distilled liquor, typically made from grains such as sorghum, corn, and wheat.